Madness
by wolfluvermh
Summary: "You thought you could cleanse me of MADNESS? For the first time, Jophiel, I see clearly! It is you whose vision is muggy! She taught me the true nature of humanity, she did! She taught me the love they feel, the loyalty, that stubborn desire to live harbored in their fragile spirits! And YOU TOOK THAT FROM HER! YOU TOOK THAT FROM ME!"/My take on what happens if Uriel wins.


**Alright, so, on my last posted fanfiction, there was a lot of attention. LET ME CLARIFY. If I do create a series – and I plan on doing so – then I shall start anew. I have an idea cooking, and I'm quite confident in it. **

**This fanfiction (one-shot) is about what could happen to Raffe should Uriel win.**

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**Madness**

Sandalphon peers curiously over the snowy crest of Jophiel's wings, his eyes round. Eagerness tunnels his vision and sharpens his hearing; a figure is outlined by the soft light, and the gentle breathing of a creature can be heard echoing through the chamber. A nervous tremble flutters through his feathers, anxiety and excitement circulating through his system. His stomach churns choppily.

"Is that him?" whispers Sandalphon, his voice a caress to the quiet of the corridor. "The fallen angel?"

"Yes." Jophiel's nasally voice adopts a smug tone. His spare hand rests at the hilt of the sword as his hip. "That's him, alright. Him and all his misery."

To cast additional light upon the sickly creature, Jophiel cranes his torch to the sky. The dancing tongues of Hell flickering in the torch seem to laugh and sneer, rigorously flapping like silk flags in the wind. An orange glow is cast over the ground, not quite reaching the figure. Despite his overwhelming sense of dread and the uneasiness at being buried so far beneath the skin of the world, Sandalphon creeps closer, his eyes alight with curiosity.

On first glance, this prison cell looks very much like any of the other numerous chambers located along the dank corridor; the same jagged rock walls with black water dripping from ledges, the same roughly circular room, the same foul smell wafting from the bowels of the cell, and the same fragile shaft of brilliant light cast into the center of the room. But this room is lacking something in particular. It seems that the inmate is rather different from the rest.

Sandalphon's brow creases. His interest increases with every passing moment of gawking at the lonely inmate.

Unlike the other demons and angels that've been imprisoned so far beneath the earth, chained in the Pit for all eternity to live out the punishment for their crimes, this one does not snarl and groan and wail at Sandalphon and Jophiel. He does not beg or plea or flatter. He does not utter a single word. The creature does not even seem to register their presence. It merely _dangles_.

In that faint beam of light, the creature can be seen. Handcuffs are brutally snapped around either wrist, a chain leading from each one and attaching him to the ceiling. Blood, crimson in color, trails down his caramel arms. Another pair of chains are wrapped around the joint of his wing, cuffs piercing the leathery skin. Gaping holes have been brutally torn around the cuffs. They, too, drip with sticky liquid, scarlet beading over the scythes erupting from the bottommost edges. The chains keep him from slouching over the ground, but just barely – the creature's body nearly brushes the stone floor, his knees set heavily against the stone. His dark head is bowed low, forehead nearly lain against the ground, and his body is limp against the chains. The muscles of an archangel carve his back into a plain of ridges and trenches.

When Sandalphon had descended to first gaze upon this angel's forever shame, he'd assumed that he'd come face to face with madness, seen the gleam of an animal in the famous pariah's eyes. But there is nothing feral in this defeated beast. The limp warrior in chains only influences a sense of sadness inside of Sandalphon. There is nothing threatening about this broken warrior. He is merely a pathetic broken angel.

It obviously is not the same for Jophiel, Sandalphon's mentor. His cheetah-like form is lined with triumph as he gloats over the wounded warrior.

"It's been a long time, Raphael!" A cruel smile tugs at the corners of Jophiel's mouth. "Too long! My, it's been nearly a century!" Jophiel shakes his head. "But my memory draws me back even before then. Tell me, Raphael, do you remember when we fought side by side, Raphael? Do you remember when you battled Nephilim instead of spawning them?"

Though Sandalphon is displeased with Jophiel's taunting, he does not know how to interject, and the creature does not seem to notice.

"But of course," Jophiel nastily sneers, "you had to fall in love with the human. A human, of all things, Raphael! Was it not you who lead the battle to destroy Massachusetts? Was it not you who ripped Lady Liberty's crown from her head? And yet, you were bewitched by the spell of a rat, a monkey! For shame! For shame, I say!"

Two things are blatantly evident in the brief silence that follows: the malicious glint in Jophiel's eyes, and the tensing of the creature's shoulder blades.

"The humans are blundering fools, Raphael!" bellows Jophiel. "You knew this better than any! You were the one who conquered, the one who dealt out their fate with an iron fist! Do you remember him, Raphael? Do you remember that regal warrior? Do you remember the archangel that would cause angels to fall silent with respect as he passed? Do you remember the angel you used to be?"

The grim, gravelly tone of Raphael's voice sends ice through Sandalphon's veins. "I only remember an idiot with a lust for blood. And I only see two now."

Jophiel seems thrilled to receive a response. He paces back and forth before the iron bars, scowl black as the wings on Raphael's back. "Is that all you think of us now? Idiots? Explain to me this, Raphael: if we are the idiots, then why are you in a cell instead of basking in the light of God? Why are you not messenger? For only the brightest of us all can hear the word of the Lord!"

Raphael's head jerks up slightly, but still, his gaze does not move from the floor. "No. Only the brightest of you all can dictate the rest without opposition. Gabriel did it before Uriel. And now, you've lead an entire culture, an entire _species_ to ruin because of your politics."

"_Our_ politics?" Jophiel seems enraged, as though stuck with a cattle prong. "Are you so smitten by the filth of humanity that you consider yourself to be one of them? Do you believe that because you acquired a human pet, all your sins would be washed away? Did you believe that your 'love' would keep the human from dying? Because she deserted you in the end, didn't she, Raphael?"

The tension in the archdemon's shoulder blades tightens. Sandalphon backs away from the bars.

"She left you all alone!" howls Jophiel. "She enchanted you and left you to live out eternity in this hole!"

The rasp of chains over stone sends Sandalphon stumbling backwards as, abruptly, the creature propels himself over the stone. A furious roar is issued from the maw of Raphael, echoed off the rocky cell's walls. The chains snap into attention, restraining him from just barely touching the gate. They quiver with the strain of holding back an archdemon. A rabid snarl contorts the creature's face, the dramatic shadows cast from the orange torch only twisting his rage further.

"YOU KILLED HER!" Raphael roars. "YOU KILLED HER!"

Sandalphon's eyes grow wider than before. His hand rests at the hilt of his sword. But, somehow, he isn't afraid of the archdemon straining against his chains. Sympathy is all that plays over his heart.

Because, though Sandalphon is young and has walked few roads, he knows the eyes of madness, and he knows the eyes of a murderer. There is no trace of the malice of either in this fallen angel's gaze. There is fury, of course, a burning hatred for the angel before him, but there is no malice. Instead, there is grief. Awful, horrible grief, shining in his navy blue eyes like tears.

"Yes!" snarls Jophiel. "Yes, I killed your human pet! I thought it would cleanse you of the madness gripping your soul, not plunge you deeper into it!"

"MADNESS?" Raphael howls irefully, his wings splaying wide to the ceiling, scythes hissing in the air. Murder gleams in his eyes. "You thought you could cleanse me of MADNESS? For the first time, Jophiel, I see clearly! It is you whose vision is muggy! She taught me the true nature of humanity, she did! She taught me the love they feel, the loyalty, that stubborn desire to live harbored in their fragile spirits! And YOU TOOK THAT FROM HER! YOU TOOK THAT FROM ME!"

"What do you want me to do?" roars Jophiel back. "Apologize for separating you from the harbinger of your doom?"

Sandalphon is hugging the opposite wall at this point, watching in fear as the archdemon's muscles flex futilely against the iron chains clasped around the wrists of Raphael. Jophiel is pacing back and forth before the bars. It reminds Sandalphon of a cheetah prancing before a caged lion; at the moment, the cheetah is safe and the damaged lion is imprisoned, but God forbid, should he escape, the cheetah's only defense is to run like Hell.

"She was a thousand times greater than you! Than me!" Raphael's eyes roll. "Clever and brave! The girl who fought dirty! And you TOOK HER FROM ME!" A soft creak pop rings through the air, like the sound of metal bending. Raphael's right fist seems to grow slightly closer to the bars separating him from Jophiel. "I WILL TAKE YOUR LIFE FROM YOU! I WILL!"

His nostrils flare and his muscles flex against the fetters of his prison. His bare chest is subject to the deadly glare of the orange torchlight, the flames contorting the shadows and giving the archdemon a demonic appeal. The bat wings quiver with his bloodlust, the rage in his eyes not something Sandalphon can completely comprehend. Great, gasped breaths formulate the dramatic rise and fall of his shoulders. Sweaty black hair falls into the archdemon's sweaty face.

Jophiel shakes his head, demeanor dropping suddenly. "And I thought that maybe, just maybe, there was my friend residing somewhere inside you."

The flame purrs as Jophiel turns to retreat down the hallway. Sandalphon does not waste a moment in trailing after Jophiel as the archangel turns on foot and trots down the hall without sparing a step behind him. However, Sandalphon does glance back, only to hear something he wishes he hadn't:

A single, heartbroken sob echoes from deep within Raphael's cell, a quiet song of mourning drifting down the hallway. The thrumming chords of the archangel feel strange as they roam up and down the lullaby. A shiver rolls down Sandalphon's spine, and he knows instinctively that the chilling apology melody will come back to haunt him in his dreams.

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**Yep. Hope you enjoyed. **

**Just so you know: those are actual angel names I looked up, Sandalphon and Jophiel. **

**Ciao,**

**~wolfluvermh**


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